Hennessy

Auditions

Hennessy POV

Given the struggles I'm facing, I decided to go audition for the job in Manhattan, I mean what could possibly go wrong, it's either they like me or they don't. Standing in front of the large glass building, it looks nothing like where I come from, feeling my nerves slowly getting to me as I try to ignore them. This definitely is something I'm not use to, the place screams money and I definitely feel out of place already. Letting out a sigh, I walk in the large building. "Henny" Jasmine calls out, looking up to see her wide smile. A long line of women sat beside each other, each of them eyeing me up and down in disgust. "I signed up for you", "thanks" I whisper.
My eyes scanning the place, the theme dark yet modern, beautiful women at every corner, each with a unique yet beautiful body. "How long does each audition take?" I ask, "40 seconds" she says making me breathe out nervously, "song of their choice?", "yep" she says popping the p. A lot of names called out, and by the faces of many they clearly didn't get the job, that alone made me nervous. After waiting for a good 30 minutes, Jasmine's name is called out, "good luck" I say giving her a soft smile, "thanks babe, I need it" she sighs. Less than a minute later my name is called in.

Walking in the room, the tension is so thick a knife could slice through it. Before me sat 4 people I had never seen in my life, their stares intimidating. The first one being a tall man, his eyes with the dark eyeliner staring into mine. The second one next to him a dark woman. Her make up minimal, her features bold and a small yet sinister smile on her face. Next to her a woman with dark hair, her face lathered In makeup. Also just as beautiful and next to her a bold light skinned man. His eyes wide. His lips in a thin line. "Hennessy" he calls out breaking my thoughts , "yeah" I whisper. "It says here that you are black, no offence but you look Latina" , and what is that supposed to mean. Taking everything in me not to roll my eyes, "my mother was black, I didn't know my father, so I can't say for sure" . Letting out a sigh, "okay, 40 seconds, show us what you got" . Rocket by Beyoncé blasts in the room. Gathering myself I begin a routine, approaching the pole in front of me on beat, maintaining the eye contact , swaying my hips to the beat, hooking my front leg to the pole, picking my body up, trying to show my skills without overdoing it; grinding against it before allowing my body to twist and turn seductively before eventually hanging upside down, finishing off my performance with me sliding off the pole on beat. My body slowly lowering to the ground, feeling my back touching the floor, allowing my legs to move in the air, before rolling over, landing in a split position. The music coming to an end.
Getting up from the floor, their faces void of any emotion, "you said how long have you been doing this?" The dark haired guy finally speaks, "it's been almost 5 years". Nodding his head, "okay", "you can leave" he says coldly; rude much. This behaviour is nothing new to me, being in this business I've met a lot of individuals that speak to me as if I'm nothing, and it no longer hurts my feelings . It's crazy how one can get judged for being a stripper, yet the men and women who visit the strip clubs aren't judged as harshly. I've always thought about this, how prostitutes are harshly judged in society, yet the market exists.

~Damien POV
Hurriedly stuffing the files in my briefcase, cussing out in complete frustration due to how I'm running late. I take punctuality very seriously, however the one time I have a meeting with one of my most important clients from Miami, I oversleep. "Listen Shad, just keep him busy and talking when he gets there, I'm running a few minutes late but I should be able to bypass the traffic" I say rushing down the stairs, met with my wife. Giving me a soft smile, I lean in giving her a peck on the lips, before rushing out.

~Hennessy POV
"How do you think it went?" Jasmine anxiously asks over the phone, stopping in front of the red light. Breathing out, "I don't know", "they said nothing to you too?" She asks, "pretty much". "Fuck! Anyway Are you coming tonight?" , "nah, th-" my words are cut off by me making painful contact with the steering wheel, feeling light headed. Scanning around me in disorientation, my vision slightly blurred, it dawns on me that someone has bumped my car.
Rushing out the car furious, "WHAT THE HELL!" I yell, my eyes immediately landing on the black Lamborghini truck, the driver getting out the car. His eyes wide. Towering over me in his tall stature, his eyes dark and piercing against his deep tone, his lips plump.
Snapped back to reality, his wide eyes staring at me in concern, "ma'am are you okay?" He asks, "I'm so sorry, are you oka-" snapping out of my thoughts my eyes widen at the damage the impact did to my already beat up car. "The fuck I'm not! Look at my car!" I screech livid, "ma'am, the traffic light was gre-" "oh so that meant should you drive into me!" I yell in frustration. His eyes wide in horror, "you bleeding, let me take you t-" "I DON'T NEED A HOSPITAL I NEED THE POLICE!". Breathing out in furry , feeling the warm liquid above my lip, lightly dabbing by hand. Looking down at the bright red liquid, I'm bleeding, of course I'm bleeding I practically slammed into the staring wheel. "Now you wanna cal-" "YOU ARE GETTING ON MY LAST NERVE" I yell. Looking up at him, his jaw clenching, what he says next makes me want to murder him then and there. "Ma'am look, I have a meeting I really cannot miss. If you don't need the ho-" "EXCUSE ME YOU ALMOST KIL-" "and I acknowledge that, I sincerely apologise thus I suggest we exchange contact details, everyone knows me in the city I cannot poss-" "I DON'T GIVE A DAMN ABOUT WHO YOU AR-" "judging by your reaction you clearly don't have insurance, how about I write you a cheque and we call it day" he says casually, my eyes wide at his attitude and lack of remorse. "I'm calling 911" I spit rushing back to my car, "LADY I WILL WRITE YOU A FIVE THOUSAND DOLLAR CHEQUE TO COVER ANY MEDICAL BILLS, AND IS WORTH MORE THAN THIS PIECE OF JUNK" he argues following behind me, I could really use that five thousand dollars but because he's a dickhead, "we calling 911" I give him a sarcastic smile. Opening the car door,  scanning the car I lean in to grab my cellphone from the floor, "while you at it could you at least sit down in case you have a concussion" he says in frustration; giving him a death stare, "sit down" he orders, stupidly obeying his orders I get in the car . Searching for a napkin, I finally find one before placing it on my bleeding nose. His eyes not leaving me.